Dragon stood at the edge of the crumbling parapet, his hooves balanced on the jagged stones that had barely survived the centuries. The icy wind whipped through his mane, tugging at the scars across his dark coat. He gazed down at the battlefield below—a sea of devastation that stretched to the horizon. Jagged skeletons of siege engines jutted like the ribs of long-dead beasts, and shattered weapons littered the landscape, their rusted blades glinting faintly in the dying light. No inc...

   Dragon halted, his iron-shod hooves sinking into the damp, mist-choked earth of the moor. His nostrils flared, catching no scent of the wandering specter ahead—no flesh, no sweat, just the hollow, metallic tang of something not quite alive. The spectral courser moved with a haunting aimlessness, its translucent legs brushing through the heather without disturbing a single stalk.    Its rider—a faded human figure, clad in armor that seemed to shimmer between ruin and glory—...

   Dragon’s ears swiveled sharply, attuned to the faint rustle behind him. His hooves, scuffed and scarred from countless battles, remained perfectly still against the cold stone floor of the dungeon. He didn’t turn his head immediately—no, that would give away too much. Instead, he let his narrow eyes scan the edges of his vision. The shadows seemed to shift, mocking him, but Dragon knew better. Something was there. His breath curled into mist as he exhaled, slow and controlled...

You come upon a chamber with a crack in its ceiling. A mossy pedestal is illuminated by moonlight, a gorgeous chest resting on it for the taking. However, surrounding the pedestal is a gruesome sight: piles of bleached Courser bones. Do you heed the warning or attempt to take the treasure?        Dragon's eyes rested on the bones-- he thought, brieflyl, of how Camellia would react to the scene. Surely, she'd think it wa...